


home is where the heart is

by SerpentineJ



Category: Watcher (TV 2019)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 00:56:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20612258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentineJ/pseuds/SerpentineJ
Summary: “Don’t get up,” Chigwang says, coming in through the open bedroom door. He’s wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. “Your fever hasn’t broken yet.”Younggoon would protest, but his entire body feels hot and weak. He slides back down into the blankets. Chigwang leans over him and presses their foreheads together – his skin is cool, and Younggoon sighs, feeling the heat in his own breath.





	home is where the heart is

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: inspired by me a few days ago at 10:30 pm bc i was weirdly nauseous and im not sure why but thats when i wrote most of this
> 
> do they.. work on weekends..? like in shifts? im just going with “they don’t go into the office on weekends but they’re on call in case an urgent case happens” . i mean they’re not really cops that respond to active crimes like detectives or patrol officers

Younggoon’s throat is dry when he wakes up.

That’s the first thing he notices – the second is that his head feels fuzzy, and the sheets are sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He forces his eyes open. They feel like they’ve been cemented shut. He coughs – the raspy noise grates against his airway.

Next to him, Chigwang stirs.

Younggoon tries his best to swallow his coughs, but now that one has made it out, his throat feels like sandpaper, and the tickle won’t go away – he shifts in bed and curls on his side, back facing Chigwang, in an effort not to wake him, coughing into his blanket.

His effort is in vain. Chigwang rolls over. He drops a hand on Younggoon’s neck – at feeling his skin, damp and clammy, his eyes blink open and he pulls his head off his pillow.

“Younggoon?” He says, voice rough from sleep.

“Sorry,” Younggoon whispers. It’s stupidly early in the morning. The sun has barely started to rise. “Go back to sleep.”

Chigwang ignores him, and pulls on his shoulder – Younggoon rolls reluctantly onto his back. He can see Chigwang squinting at him in the low light. Chigwang presses one hand to Younggoon’s forehead.

“You’re warm.” He says. His thumb strokes across Younggoon’s hairline. “Didn’t you say you weren’t feeling well last night?”

“Mm. A little,” Younggoon says, eyes fluttering shut. Chigwang’s palm is pleasantly dry and cool on his fevered forehead. His flushed cheeks are evident even in the dim lighting. As quickly as he had awoken, the energy seems to seep out of him, and he starts to slip back into drowsiness. He vaguely feels Chigwang wipe the sweat from his brow and untangle the blanket from under him.

\--

It’s nearly midday when Younggoon wakes again. His sheets are almost soaked through with sweat. He turns his head weakly – there’s a bowl of water and a washcloth on the bedside table, and Chigwang is nowhere to be seen. 

He struggles to a sitting position. The blankets are wrapped tightly around his legs again – he must have been restless in his sleep. He rubs his eyes thickly and tries to get up.

“Don’t get up,” Chigwang says, coming in through the open bedroom door. He’s wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. “Your fever hasn’t broken yet.”

Younggoon would protest, but his entire body feels hot and weak. He slides back down into the blankets. Chigwang leans over him and presses their foreheads together – his skin is cool, and Younggoon sighs, feeling the heat in his own breath.

“I usually don’t get sick,” he croaks, throat feeling sore. Chigwang moves away just a little bit and lays his palm flat on Younggoon’s forehead comfortingly. “Aren’t you going to get sick if you keep coming in here?”

“It’s fine,” Chigwang says. He helps Younggoon sit up, just slightly, and hands him a cup of water. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, to be taken care of, even after all this time – Younggoon’s brain is a little fuzzy, and his body aches, but his chest fills with warmth. Chigwang sits on the edge of the bed next to Younggoon’s outstretched legs. His long sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and his fingers are cool, as if he’s been washing dishes. 

Younggoon drinks the water. His throat grits as he swallows, like a sponge that’s so dry that it can’t soak up the water immediately. When he finishes, Chigwang takes the mug back and sets it on the bedside table.

“You should stay home from work tomorrow,” Chigwang says. His hand pats the blanket over Younggoon’s thigh, not following any rhythm that Younggoon can discern. “Our caseload isn’t that heavy.”

“Mm.” Younggoon lays back and lets his eyes flutter shut again, the fever heat making him too lightheaded to even argue.

Chigwang strokes his thumb across his face. Younggoon opens his eyes and looks at him. He looks worried – Younggoon smiles, a chuckle slipping out from him.

“I’m fine,” he says, tilting his face just slightly into Chigwang’s hand. “It’s just a fever. It’ll be gone soon.”

Chigwang’s expression softens a bit.

\--

The rest of the day is filled with something that’s as close to fussing as Chigwang gets. He brings Younggoon soup and helps him eat it. Younggoon drifts in and out of sleep to various things – the sound of water running in the bathroom, the feeling of Chigwang’s palm against his forehead. the noise of dishes clicking against each other in the kitchen – but his fever finally breaks in the afternoon, when he’s all but sweated through the sheets. 

He wakes up around dinnertime. The heat that’s been boiling him from the inside out, like a pot left on simmer, has mostly dissipated. His body is sore, and he’s dehydrated, but he pulls himself into a sitting position and tries to get out of bed.

Chigwang comes in through the bedroom door – he checks Younggoon’s forehead, and pulls a thermometer out of his pocket.

“Say aah,” he says, holding Younggoon’s jaw. Younggoon obligingly opens his mouth. The thermometer confirms that his fever is receding. Chigwang sighs in relief. Younggoon smiles fondly up at him.

“Were you that worried?” He asks.

Chigwang gives him a look. Younggoon laughs. He feels almost giddy, now that his body temperature is going down and some of his energy is coming back. 

“Go take a shower. You’re covered in sweat.” He says, helping Younggoon up by the elbow. “I’ll change the sheets.”

Younggoon grabs his hand.

“Thank you,” he says. Chigwang looks at him. He squeezes Chigwang’s hand, trying to convey how he feels. “For taking care of me.”

Chigwang smiles at him. He chuckles. He leans up and kisses Younggoon on his pink, sweaty cheek, and then pushes him in the direction of the door.

“Go take a shower,’ he repeats, in a voice filled with affection.

\--

“I feel fine now.” Younggoon says, laid up in bed that night, freshly showered and wrapped in clean sheets. “Do I really have to take tomorrow off?”

Chigwang looks at him sideways. 

“Yes,” he says. “We’ll be fine without you for a day. Don’t worry.”

Younggoon sighs, but a quiet feeling of relief bubbles up in him. The fever had been short, but the general feeling of exhaustion that comes from sickness is still settled in his bones, all the more pronounced for how hotly and quickly his body had chased away the illness. 

Now that he’s not singlemindedly hunting his parents’ murderers, he can afford to take care of himself once in a while. The feeling of obsession isn’t enough to overpower his exhaustion. 

“Thanks.” He says quietly.

Chigwang laces their fingers together and turns out the lights.

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: "are you ever going to get sick of describing them being casually lovey dovey in their private home life" no
> 
> tumblr leofemt twitter serpentinej


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